Life, as witnessed by Rory Williams
by happierhere
Summary: Life, as witnessed by Rory Williams proud husband to Amy Pond and befuddled father to River Song . Even without the Doctor it's confusing and sometimes difficult. He wouldn't change it for the world.
1. Rebuilding a home

**Title**: Afterwards; scenes from the life of Rory Williams

**Rating**: PG-13

**Show**: Doctor Who

**Characters**: Amy Pond, Rory Williams, River Song (maybe cameo's by the Doctor)

**Synopsis**: Life, as witnessed by Rory Williams (proud husband to Amy Pond and befuddled father to River Song). Even without the Doctor it's confusing and sometimes difficult. He wouldn't change it for the world.

**Spoilers:** Starts after The God Complex, but with spoilers through season 6. I'll do my best to make it all fit, but with the Eleventh Doctor's wibbely-wobbely timelines, I'm bound to screw up continuity…

**Author's Notes: **  
After seeing River pop by her parents' house in River Song's Wedding, I wanted to know more about their little dysfunctional family. Do they see each other often? Does she escape from prison to see them? Does she call them Mum and Dad? How do they not get embarrassed every single time they realise they grew up together? And how does Rory deal with the fact his daughter is married to the Doctor?

I'm terrible at updating, as you might have notice from my other stories… So while this story is set as on-going and I'll try adding new chapters, I'll make sure all chapters can be read as though they were separate stories…

The first two stories deal with loss (in one form or another) and are a bit sad. The next few will be more upbeat. More 'Doctorish' so to speak.

* * *

**Rebuilding **  
After the Doctor left them in their new house, it was up to them to make it a home.  
Warning: quite sad.

* * *

Afterwards, Rory realised, what was truly amazing were _not_ the adventures they had had with the Doctor, nor the wonderful people and sometimes scary things they had met during.

( Rory had decided early one that finding out who their daughter– their brilliant daughter they had found and lost and grew up with (_which would never not be weird_) and found again in River Song – really was, was in a category of its own, and not to be defined by mere words like amazing, wonderful and terrifying )

What was truly amazing, was the fact that the doctor, for all his screwing up timelines - and their _lives_ in general (_he admired the doctor, he even liked the guy, but he didn't think he could ever forgive him_) - had actually brought them home on time. With time to spare even: they even had a few days left before anyone expected them home from their 'holiday'.

When the plan of a crop circle to call the doctor to Leadworth had been decided upon, Rory requested a week off from work. His colleagues had understandably grumbled about it: he had already taken 'his honeymoon' that year and then later two weeks for "their trip to America". And all that without bringing them pictures! (Rory had lied about being mugged in Utah, their very first day. How else was he to explain the lack of pictures and exciting travel stories?)

His boss however had just smiled and told him to go for it. 'They're still newlyweds', she had chastised his colleagues. 'He has built up loads of overtime anyway.' That was true: after returning from his first trip with the Doctor, Rory had volunteered for the shifts nobody else wanted and filled in for every sick colleague. Partly out of guilt for disappearing so long (not that _they_ noticed), mostly to forget, but also simply because he needed the practice (needed to get used to_ modern_ medicine again).

As for his bosses sudden seal of approval, Rory privately thought she was still feeling guilty about not believing him about the coma patients a few years earlier. Not that she ever mentioned _that_.

Not that anyone ever mentioned having seen the Atraxi hanging in the sky that day …. It seemed like everyone had simply forgotten those events and that without the help of the Silents. He had mentioned these suspicions to the Doctor once. The Timelord had just smiled and told him most humans try to only see what they wanted to see.

Rory guessed his and Amy's eyes had been opened by their travels. Then again, he couldn't put it all on the Doctor and his blue box. His live had been changed much earlier – for the better, no doubt about _that_ - from the moment little Amelia Pond's family had moved to Leadworth. Most of the times he remembered just Amelia and her aunt living in that big house. A house with a crack in the bedroom wall and an alien prisoner hiding in a spare room... Meeting the Doctor had probably been inevitable. _It could have been worse. _

After celebrating the first night in their new house, they spent the remaining days cooped up inside, trying to make it a home.

Rory contacted their landlord, in order to end their old lease. Somehow the Doctor had managed to move all their stuff. He had even brought in new items, like the champagne flutes Rory had discovered in the kitchen when they first arrived.

Rory didn't know how he'd managed, but didn't wonder. He had stopped wondering about the _how_ with Doctor a while back –_why_ however he would probably never stop asking. He was just thankful however the few purchases (a crib, a baby blanket, some toys, …) they had made thinking their daughter would be home soon (placed in the old spare room painted sky blue), hadn't found their way over.

_(Months later he would discover cardboard boxes labelled 'baby Pond' in the attic.) _

They also fabricated stories:  
* How their holiday went – good, relaxing, nothing out of the ordinary.  
* How they found this house and how they would be able to afford it – a very pricy loan.  
* Where the new car came from – a gift from their weirdo (but rich) friend, which they all met at the wedding. ('Remember the strange guy who pretended to be Amy's childhood imaginary friend? Who kept dancing with everyone at the wedding?')

Rory then spent hours photo-shopping their old holiday portraits into images of Rome he had downloaded from the net. (He had blurted out the name of the ancient city when his co-workers had asked him where they were travelling this time.) He never expected it would hurt, looking at pictures of the remains of the city where he spent his _other_ childhood.

In the end it didn't matter. Like the Doctor said: people only heard what they wanted to hear. So yeah, nice trip, new house, how wonderful for you, could you pass the salt please?

Their last day together, home alone before they had to face the outside world again, he and Amy looked at old pictures of Melody. Not that the pictures were that old…  
Some had been taken only a month before (_in linear time, another thing to get used to again_). It all just felt like a lifetime ago. They mourned their lost childhood friend, because_ Mels_ had in fact died, having been shot by Hitler.

They also talked about their daughter who was recuperating far (_ages_) away from them, wishing they could see her, hug her, tell her it would all be all right and that she would be amazing. They knew she would. They had met her after all. They had met the imposing woman – _River_ - that she would become.

Only when they had left her, she had been all alone. Having just sacrificed her lives for the man she was raised to hate. A man she would grow to _love_, Rory knew – _had seen it_ - . He did not how to feel about that yet.

Only then they cried for Melody…

'I don't even remember what my baby looks like,' Amy admitted tearfully at three o'clock, the night before Rory was expected back at the hospital. He had woken up in an empty bed and had finally found her wrapped in a blanket sitting in their garden, looking at the stars.

_You were only together for a few moments_, he wanted to console her, _it's only natural you wouldn't remember_. He kept his silence however, knowing better than to try and be reasonable at an emotional moment like this.

'Do you remember,' she asked. 'Do you remember our little girl?'

Rory kept quiet and turned to hug her. He just held her in his arms until they were both cried out. Exhausted, from having lost so much, and not even being allowed to remember how much they had missed.

Only, he did remember.

He could see their tiny little daughter picture perfect in his mind's eye. How she had cooed in his arms and had glanced up at him entranced by his shiny armour. He could even remembered the colour of her eyes and the smell of her skin.

He refused to, with all his strength. Because that memory was linked to other memories:  
* The nightmare of watching his daughter's facsimile melt in her mother's arms.  
* The moment of realising that Madam Kovarian – _whom he had shown *_mercy_* by letting her escape empty-handed but alive_ - had tricked them into losing their daughter.  
* The fact that she did succeed in brainwashing his little girl into a psychopath that killed people without blinking.  
*The knowledge he would never see his little baby girl again.

He'd rather, no, he choose  
* To remember growing up with Mels, the initially gloomy foster kid from down the street.  
* To fondly recall how the three of them used to play tag.  
* To never forget the bottles of wine they had shared on his eighteenth birthday, all getting rather pissed and very much in trouble.  
* To recall the awe he felt for the woman pretending to be Cleopatra, the first time they met.  
* To cherish the pride he felt at hearing that that woman, the only one ever really able to handle the Doctor, was his daughter.

So yeah, maybe he was only human too.


	2. Loose ends

**Loose ends **

A few weeks later, people started to ask about Mels' absence. They couldn't tell them - they had no idea where_ or rather when_ she was -, so they just shrugged and said: 'Somewhere out there, wandering. You know what she's like_.'_

Falling back into his work routine came easy this time. He loved his job, but mostly he loved working with people: his patients, but also their family and his fellow colleagues.

The medicine, however, was harder to get used to again. Even though the Leadworth hospital was state-of-the-art (one of the best in Britain) after all he had seen – and the ways he himself had been treated a few times – modern medicine simply seemed old fashioned. Even crude.

That day had been particularly hard. One of the elderly patients on his ward had died of a blood clot in his brain. All Rory could think about for the remainder of that day was that tiny vial that the Doctor had passed Cleaves after the events in the acid farm. _So tiny, yet very effective_.

He debated with himself whether to discuss it with Amy. It would be wise to let her know he was feeling a bit down, but he decided against telling her the whole story. He didn't want to mention the Doctor, not when they had both just gotten their lives back on the rails.

It had taken her a few weeks of deliberation, but finally Amy knew what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. She had always dreamed of her own shop, selling people something they could enjoy, bringing joy to their lives. Having thought it through, she enrolled in a few evening courses: financing, book keeping, advertising, ... determined to _plan_ this "_adventure_" well.

They were eating dinner quietly that night, until someone knocked on their door.

Rory got up to answer and recognised the caller immediately. It was Sergeant Mills from the local police station, whom they – courtesy of Mels – had gotten to know rather well over the years. The officer had been at their doorstep (that of their old flat, and before that of their parents) plenty of times before.

'What has she done now?' He blurted out, then winced at the triggered response. In his mind, the older man was without exception linked to Mels being in trouble. Only now… she couldn't be.

Amy appeared behind his back. "Sergeant Mills? We've already told you we don't know where _she_ is."

Nobody had seen or heard from Melody the previous months. _How could they?_ Fortunately for the Melody everybody in Leadworth knew a disappearing act wasn't much out of the ordinary. She had gone missing before, only to pop up a few months later, broke, but with lots of interesting stories.

'I'm sorry to …' Mills started, with a heavy voice. When it became obvious he couldn't finish the sentence, he began anew after clearing his throat: 'Cardiff Central Police Station called us today.'

He handed the bag he'd been carrying to Rory. Two objects could be made out through the plastic: a cell phone and a piece of paper, that looked like it had been wet, with the word _sorry _written across it.

'They were found in the Cardiff docks. The police suspect Melody…" The officer paused a moment; 'They suspect she jumped into the water.'

_Surprise_. Whatever he had been expecting, this wasn't it! He off course knew that Melody wasn't really dead and that the notion of _suicide_ was ridiculous. He just hoped that his befuddled look could pass as shock.

'Have you contacted her par.. foster family?' Amy recovered faster than Rory, although her eyes were teary.

'No. I wanted to contact you two first. You've always...' He gestured with his hands, like he wanted to pluck the right words out of the sky. He then settled for: 'cared for her.'

Her foster parents had taken their hands off Mels the moment she turned eighteen. Emotionally, they had checked out years before. Rory and Amy had always resented them for it, but knowing what they know now, perhaps there had been some external influence?

'I will stop by their house later.'

Rory wanted to hand him the bag back, but Mills refused. 'You should keep it.' He gestured at the phone. 'It's broken though. It rained when it was discovered. It's one of the reasons it took so long to identify the owner.'

'Okay...' Rory said, not really sure how he was supposed to respond. He had the feeling the other man was beating around the bush, prolonging the conversation for some reason. Frankly Rory wanted him to go, so he and Amy could discuss these new events.

'Your number was the only one they could recover. She put it in as _Dad_. It confused the investigators.'

Tears sprung into Rory's eyes, while the other man continued: 'It makes perfect sense to me.'

* * *

They saw the Sergeant again a few days later at the funeral. They had made all the arrangements, knowing that was how _Mels_ would have wanted it. Rory spotted him, dressed not in his uniform but in a simple black suit, in the back of the room. Next to him sat an unknown, dark-haired man. His clean haircut and rigid posture indicated a past in military or other official service. Perhaps someone from Cardiff's police force?

The service was short, but very emotional. They had decided against a religious service: Mels had never been a devout person and they themselves would never forget it was an clerical order disguised as an army (_or was it the other way around?_) that had taken away their daughter. The eerie _prayer of attack _still played a large role in his nightmares.

If he hadn't known that _River_ was still out there – somewhere – he would have been affronted at the small turnout of people saying goodbye to her younger self. A few old friends from school had joined three sets of parents; Mels', his and Amy's. To no one's surprise it was Mrs. Pond who cried the most, she'd always had a soft spot for her daughter's first (and only) _girl_friend.

Since Amy had begun the service with a word of welcome and a recitation of Mels favourite song lyrics (she never had the patience for poetry, but could listen hours to music), it was up to him to make the final speech. To be the last to say goodbye.

He mourned the friend he had first met in primary school.

'_Hi, you're Rory right? Amy's friend? Well then I'm your friend now too.'_

'_Uhm. Ok?'_

All the embarrassment and unease he might feel, knowing that that girl was also his daughter – _and that she had seen, heard, said_ _and known things no one should ever have about their parents - _he locked away deep in his mind. Deeper than where he had hidden the Centurion.

Only the feelings of friendship, love – and sometimes sheer _exasperation_ at her antics – would be allowed after that day. He didn't make it through the first sentence of his speech without crying. He didn't care. His friends were worth crying about.

Later that day they buried an empty casket. Only the two of them knew for sure her body would never be found.

Only it wasn't empty. He and Amy had filled it with memorabilia from Mels' short life. To his surprise, Amy later added her _Raggedy Man _collection: all the home-made dolls and Tardisses she had created as a child. He didn't try analysing his wife's actions, but it seemed to him like she was trying to say goodbye to more than Mels that day.

Rory stayed last, settling the last arrangements with the priest. Their parents had already taken Amy home and, knowing them like he did, were probably preparing enough food to last them a week. He was about to leave, casting one last glance to Mels' grave to make sure everything was in order, when the unknown man from the funeral approached him.

'My condolences again.' The dark-haired stranger spoke, holding out his hand for Rory to shake. 'My name is Captain Jack Harkness. Me and your daughter used to know each other.'

Either it was the glint in his eyes or the arrogance that radiated form his stance, but Rory interpreted 'knowing_' _as '_knowing intimately'. _He decked the man and left him bleeding on the cemetery's grass, without looking back.

Hours later, after he realised Harkness had said _daughter _and not _friend_, he found him again and bought him a beer in the pub.

Sounding a bit nasally - his right hook should have broken the other man's nose, Rory thought - Harkness explained his words without actually telling him much. He simply mentioned he had met River during his duties as a Time Agent before he spent a lot more words on the tale how he had met the Doctor and a girl called Rose during the Blitz. Then he shared adventurous stories of his current rag-tag team, in Cardiff.

_Rory_ didn't share. He didn't talk about how he had met the Doctor (_jumping out of a cake at his stag party…_) and why he had joined them in the Tardis (_his wife having kissed him_). Nor did he talk about their adventures (_aliens, vampires, pirates_, dying). He just listened and occasionally nipped his now lukewarm beer, nodding at all the right times in the other man's stories.

Eventually he got up and thanked him for coming to the funeral, hoping that was that.

'You know that's not the only reason I came to Leadworth.'

Rory did suspect, but had hoped Captain Harkness had only come here because there weren't that many former travel mates of the Doctor on Earth and he just wanted to talk about the things he had seen.

'So what are you here for?' No doubt Harkness would have told him anyway, but already feeling like a bad actor in a terrible movie, he decided to go for it and say the lines on his imaginary script.

Harkness' eyes turned serious. Rory had already noticed during the evening how the other man didn't fit quite his age. He hadn't worried about it, knowing all too well how soldiers' eyes could age rapidly from all the things they saw in the line of duty. From the stories Harkness had just told, he had seen and lived through a lot.

He quickly changed his theory: Harkness hadn't just lived a lot during the past years, he had actually lived for a very long time. Maybe even longer than him, once, in the other timeline. Harkness was old and perhaps even tired of life. He suddenly reminded Rory of the Doctor, on the few nights exhaustion had driven his childlike excitement away and had exposed the old, haunted Timelord. For the first time that night, Rory was actually curious about the person in front of him.

Instead of further insights, he was handed a shiny golden business card. It was empty but for the word Torchwood emblazoned on it.

'The companions of the Doctor,' Harkness started: 'they know what is really out there.' With a small nod to the sky he emphasised his words. 'They know it's a dangerous universe. And that Earth, right now in _this _time, is basically defenceless.' A small cynical smile, more like a wince, crossed his face. 'The Doctor won't always be here to save us. So we save ourselves.'

Rory mirrored his not-smile. _He was done being a loyal soldier. _'So you're recruiting me?'

'The both of you. You and your wife are a package deal, right?' That smile was more genuine and seduced Rory to do the same. The mere mention of Amy could always brighten his day, even in the worst of times. 'You could say that.'

Noticing Rory's hesitation (with stemmed from wondering how to decline, rather than from the actual offer), he added: 'You don't have to answer now. Take the card, call us.'

Rory accepted the card, put it in his back pocket and left. He was tempted to throw it out on the way home but felt obligated to ask Amy first. And he would, just not that night.

* * *

Next:

**Her first visit**

'Mother,' River spoke indulgently, 'The Pandorica, that's just a myth!' The _'Right?'_remained unspoken, but could easily be read from her face.

Amy just smiled infuriatingly.


	3. Intermezzo: drabbles

Hello, my name is HappierHere and I suck at writing multichapter fics…

To make it up to you: 2 Rory-centred drabbles which –thanks to the wibbly wobbly nature of the Doctor Who Universe – fit nicely in my 'Life, as witnessed by Rory Williams'-series.

First one is somewhat inspired by the song of Chameleon Circuit: An Awful Lot of Running. Look it up on youtube: worth your time!The second one is inspired by my planned trip to NY and the Doctor Who Novel 'The Forgotten Army'. I hope you get the inside joke without having read the book.

* * *

Jeff was whining about his old age again, setting of their fellow drinkers in the pub. Grey hairs, bad hips, declining sexual health,… Rory had heard it all before. He never joined in, simply preferring to sip his coffee until another subject came along.

He himself felt he had nothing to complain about.

Yes, he was getting a day older, but - perhaps unlike most there – he had lived his previous years to the fullest. And always in good company; only few more years to go before he and Amy could start planning their fiftieth anniversary.

The grey hairs didn't bother him. In fact, they were a blessing. Now when River popped by, she could call them Mum and Dad to her heart's content, without caring who heard them.

He trained in the gym three days a week and went for regular jogs with his wife. Their friends thought them insane and worried that some morning they would run into a heart attack. In fact both of them were in perfect health.

They needed to be. Rory planned on living a long time, perhaps visiting another moon, but definitely spending more time with his family. And that family included his son-in-law…

Seventy-plus or not… When the Doctor shows up, there's bound to be some running.

* * *

On his 35th birthday, his daughter showed up with three tickets to New York. His wife had been a co-conspirator, he soon found out, because his workplace had already been notified and a suitcase with his favorite shirts stood packed beside the front door.

They only had to drive to airport, where River got through customs and on to the plane effortlessly thanks to her husband's psychic paper.

The week itself was, hands down, one of his best vacations ever.

Mostly, because it had been a perfectly normal trip: tourists, musea and discovering the city on foot, instead of aliens, mysterious ruins and running for their lives...

There had just been a slight hitch when Amy knocked the cap of a police officer, but Rory was able to talk them out of trouble. Later Amy mumbled something about speedy little buggers and brain control in apology. Rory didn't understand, but River just nodded, like she knew what Amy was talking about. Perhaps it was the reason she kept shooting the Doctor's hats off.

The latter eventually showed up bearing cake in the middle of Central Park. Even he managed the rest of the weekend without causing (or attracting) mayor incidents.

The family picture (River grinning stupidly in the midst of their sandwich hug) with the Statue of Liberty in the background quickly became Rory's favorite.


	4. Her first visit

Her first visit

(spoilers for Hungry Earth and Cold Blood)

_I'm getting better at updating! _

_Doctor Who's chronology is a bit dodgy : The Lodger is set in 'modern day' (aired 2010) and Closing time as well (2011). I find it unlikely that Amy returned to Earth and set up shop as perfumist (a model wouldn't name the perfume) in the short year between… _

_And then we have present day Amy and Rory waving in the distance during Hungry Earth, which is set in 2020. I always wondered why they decided to return to that specific place in time. Not exactly good memories to be revisiting… _

_So – for my sanity's sake – it's not 2020, but an unspecified time, maybe a year or two after their return home in the God Complex. _

_xxxxxx_

Off course Torchwood wouldn't just leave them be.

Rory had suspected as much, even if Jack politely kept listening to his list of what seemed like a hundred good reasons not to accept his standing offer.

It was his own fault, he realised. The first time Jack called him, he should have hung up. But he didn't see the harm in giving the 7th regent of Poosh a short tour of London. And Amy didn't mind taking the 53th Century Auton triplets out shopping for more appropriate (and slightly less revealing) clothing. The trip to Paris, to see if the newest exhibition of the Louvre was simply made up of standard archaeological findings, had been a welcome bonus, even if they led them to chase a three-legged thief _on foot_ across half the city.

If he was honest with himself, Rory could admit he rather enjoyed the missions. They were interesting, if not always exciting and they weren't a tenth as dangerous as simply going out for coffee with the Doctor had been. It was rather nice to feel useful for a change, helping the Torchwood team out with these errands they couldn't spare the time for.

They eventually made a deal with Jack: they would say yes to most short missions as long that they didn't interfere with Rory's job or Amy's studies. Two ready bags found their way into the hallway closet and soon Rory decided to put an extra jerry can in the trunk of their car, just in case.

'Cwmtaf,' Jack had e-mailed them. 'The new installations of Dr. Chaudhry are drilling deeper than ever before. Perhaps someone should take a look , see if they don't stumble upon something other than old dinosaur bones.'

Rory instantly had a bad feeling about the mission, but Amy had overruled his worries. 'A drive up to the country side for a spot of surveillance and a nice picnic. What could go wrong?'

So naturally, the following weekend, Rory found himself at the wheel of their car, trying to ignore his gut feeling.

Thanks to Amy's non-existent skills at map reading, they had some trouble reaching the village or the mining installations. Not looking forward to arguing about it, Rory simply parked the car in the grass and jogged up the nearest hill to see where they were.

With a pout on her face Amy followed, only to bump into him when he suddenly froze.

'What now?' she whined, rubbing her nose. 'Please don't tell me you still can't see the village.'

'I can see the mining rig.' He answered truthfully. 'I can also see the Tardis.'

'The Doctor's here?' Excited, Amy grabbed his side, peering down the hill to see him for herself.

'And so are we..'

Confused they waved at themselves. Which was weird.

Their other selves seemed to agree: after waving back at them, they quickly disappeared inside.

Rory decided he needed to be sitting down for this, so he lowered himself to the grass. Trying to make sense of what he just saw, he asked his wife: 'So in the future we'll be travelling with him again?'

Only then he noticed Amy had turned as white as a sheet.

'Amy, I think you need to sit down." He gently pulled on her hands and grew more worried when she settled down by his side willingly instead of complaining about the wet grass.

'That wasn't the future.' She simply said.

Rory was confused: 'But I don't remem…'

In a flash the memories of their planned trip to Rio "in space" returned to him. It hadn't been the Doctor's intention to land here, but he could never turn down a challenge. Rory remembered the young boy that insisted the graves were eating people; the discovery of the ancient society and then the Silurian captive that died in their care, …

'The other Silurian attacked...' he reminisced out loud. What had happened after, remained blurry.

'She killed you.' Amy was crying now. 'She killed you and I forgot all about you.'

Rory was speechless. How could they have forgotten the place where he died?

'I'm so sorry,' Amy curled into his side.

He hugged her tight. It was not her fault, he had fallen through the cracks in time and he had woken up a Roman with a head full of dreams of redheaded girls and blue boxes.

'I'm back.' He simply said, ignoring the lump in his throat. 'I'll always come back for you.'

They sat there for a while, just sitting and letting the world spin without them for a while.

Eventually Amy sighed. 'We really should get out of here. No use in sticking around and messing up our own history.'

Rory agreed. Hand in hand they walked towards the car, which held another surprise for them.

Sitting on the bonnet, was no other than their daughter, River.

Amy ran down the hill, grabbing the older woman and pulling her into a tight hug. Rory smiled, and followed more cautiously on the slippery slope. 'River, aren't you a sight for sore eyes!'

River disentangled herself from her mother's embrace to greet him with a quick hug.

'How are you, Rory?' their daughter asked, her hands stilled on his upper arms.

'I'm fine,' he insisted. The distress he had felt before, had long evaporated. Here he was with the two women he loved most in the world, what more could he want?

Amy meanwhile had entered the car, looking for her handbag with her own daughter-diary within.

'When are we?' she shouted from the backseat.

Rory looked at his daughter's face. He would guess it was still early days for her. If he hadn't actually known who he was facing, he'd say she looked rather innocent. Her smile for one wasn't her trademark smirk yet, full of winks and spoilers.

But how early? 'River?' he started, not knowing exactly how to ask. He settled on: 'How long has it been since Berlin?'

He saw her relax slightly. Rory suddenly understood why she had been a bit hesitant before: she hadn't been sure if they knew who she was yet.

'It's my first month in Stormcage.'

Rory was baffled. This was – except for the time the Doctor had snuck them into one of her lessons as a teaching assistant (but she didn't know about that) – the youngest they had ever seen her. He could hear Amy's head hit the roof of their car in surprise. She'd be out in mere moments, seeing as they no longer had a need for their diary.

River, never having been the dullest crayon in the box, quickly figured it out: 'this isn't the first time I've visited, is it?'

Her smile intensified, making Rory wish he had a camera nearby. He vowed to do everything in his power to cause that smile again.

'Off course.' Amy butted in and then with her fiercest scowl added: 'And you will visit us many times more, understood young lady?'

River grinned with mischief at the strict finger pointed at her. 'Yes, Mum.'

'We've given you a key,' Rory added: 'or… uhm… will give you one. So really: any time you want to visit us, do. Day or night.'

'And bring your husband along sometimes,' Amy added. Rory nodded, more for their sakes than his.

'The Doctor is dead.' River answered automatically; the words wiping the smile of her face. The hurt in her voice could have fooled anyone and it pained Rory to hear it. But her stance spoke of guilt, not grief. Like with Melody, he was able to see through the lie. Then again, he already knew the truth, which gave him the advantage.

'No he's not,' Amy beat him to it: 'You killed a Tessalecta.'

River was speechless, then worry took over: 'But…'

'Don't worry,' Rory intervened: 'You were the one to tell us. And we'll never tell a soul.'

They had had this conversation many times before and they had noticed that River, for all her bluster and care free living, always felt relieved that she no longer had to lie to them. Rule number one: the Doctor lies and so does his wife. Rory suspected she hated it as much as he did.

'You will tell us after I've met you for the first time.' Amy clarified.

'Is that a spoiler, mother?' River's mischievous self returned with a wink.

'More like a pointer, can't go around telling us to early.' Amy returned the wink. Rory rolled his eyes, now he had two of them spouting spoilers.

'So how is my son-in-law? He has been treating you right, hasn't he? Visiting you in that terrible place? Because if he hasn't!' Amy was just kidding around right now, bringing the evil mother-in-law routine out for a spin. But if he really had hurt her, Rory knew, there would be nowhere in the Universe for the Doctor to hide. No fury like a mother scorned.

Or a father. He'd gladly break his sword out of retirement if it meant keeping River safe.

'He has. Twenty days in jail, twelve nights out now. You wouldn't believe the wonders he's shown me!' The suggestive waggle of her eyebrows implied she wasn't just talking about the sights…

Rory coughed and quickly changed the subject: 'so what brings you here?'

She passed him a note that said 'your father needs you' together with that day's date and a set of coordinates that he assumed was where she had found the car.

'I found this on my bed today,' she gestured at the vortex manipulator attached to her wrist. For Rory it was as much a part of her as her curls were. 'Together with the note.'

'So you're just staying the day then?' Amy asked, looking over her shoulder, pretending she was able to read the digits running on the pad. Rory rolled his eyes, it seemed his wife was quite enjoying being the one in the know. River had confided in them once that someone – Rory would bet it was her future self – kept sending her old, nearly depleted batteries so she could bail herself out of jail when needed. He approved, because that way she wasn't completely dependent on the Doctor.

Confused River confirmed: 'Eleven hours, twenty-three minutes and counting. The battery will be dead than, and I'll be right back where I started.'

Not "home" Rory noticed. Then again, who would call that blasted cell of hers a home…

'So what is up?' River asked. 'You both seem fine?'

Rory sighed. How to explain? _Oh, I'm fine, but a past version of myself will be dead in half a day, and wake up as a plastic Roman a few thousand years earlier, when the skies are falling. Then you'll show up to steal the show dressed like Cleopatra, and pretend not to know me... _

'He's fine.' Amy supplied. 'Something did happen here, but we don't have to intervene.'

Rory added: 'Intervening would be bad.' Whatever had happened after his death, had somehow led to the resetting of the Universe. Best leave it at that, he thought.

'You'll understand later,' Amy continued with a wink. 'When the Pandorica opens.'

'Amy!' Rory chastised. He understood she was just getting her own back because River was always teasing them with _spoilers_, but really, not the time and place!

'Mother,' River spoke indulgently, 'The Pandorica, that's just a myth!' The _'Right?' _remained unspoken, but could easily be read from her face.

Amy just smiled, infuriatingly.

'Alright then!' Rory clapped his hands, knowing he would have to step in now, or River's mind would soon consider this a very interesting challenge and would drive them all mad with her questions. 'We should really leave this place. So where do you want to go?'

'Wherever we go,' Amy answered, 'we're going shopping first. You are not going out dressed like that.' She pointed at River's prison uniform.

River grinned pleased, which made Rory cringe in return. He already knew how this day would end…

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Late the next day, he was assembling another IKEA-wardrobe in the spare room they had started to consider River's room. The double bed was made, waiting for another visit of its new owner. Amy had somehow managed to find Tardisblue sheets and had ordered curtains to match.

The walls just had the one coat of white paint, but Rory planned on hijacking River next time she showed up and taking her on a trip through the local DIY-stores, making sure this room would be a true home away from … everywhere in her case.

His cell phone rang, cutting through his thoughts. The caller-id read 'Jack'. Off course, they'd never gotten around to briefing him… Rory felt like kicking himself. No need to now, he thought, Jack would gladly take care of that. He answered reluctantly.

'Just checking to see if we need to send in the cavalry.' Jack quipped. Thanks god he was in a good mood.

'No need,' Rory answered truthfully: 'The Doctor has taken care of it.'

And just like he did every time someone mentioned the Doctor around him, Jack went awfully quiet for a moment.

Rory continued: 'Just give it a few days and then make sure no one ever drills in that place again.'

He then remembered the sheer enormity of the Silurian installations. 'Actually, make sure no one ever drills in the vicinity. Say 50… no 100 miles radius.'

That peaked the Captain's interest: 'Buried starship? Starships?'

'Entire ancient civilisation.'

Jack let out a low whistle. 'Dangerous?'

Rory smiled wryly, that would be an understatement. Torchwood's policy would be to bomb first and ask questions later. The least said the better, Rory realised. 'Not while asleep. The Doctor made sure of that.'

'We 'll take care of the "do not disturb"-note then.' Rory could hear him working on his pc, probably already setting out a course of action. Or playing angry birds. One could never tell with Jack.

'Anything else noteworthy happen?' Jack was fishing for more information, Rory knew. He most likely wondered why they, as they normally did, hadn't called in the same day.

Rory thought about his daughter. Since it was technically an alien visit – did "human plus" count as alien? - he should notify Torchwood. Then again, it wasn't like River was a threat to Earth. Only to his wallet. 'No, only a nice visit to the Welsh countryside, with some nostalgia on the side.'

'He has that effect on some people,' Jack answered, seemingly happy with the answers he was given. They chatted about nothing for a while.

After he hung up the phone, Rory continued with the wardrobe, whistling a show tune. On the other side of the country, an younger version of himself was dying right about now, but right there in his own hours, a few (hundreds of) years older, he was doing quite well.

_A visit from his daughter. Exactly what the Doctor ordered. _


End file.
